


Last of the English Roses

by let_build_a_snowman



Category: The Libertines
Genre: Flirting, M/M, Past Abuse, past unhealthy bdsm relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:33:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23131750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/let_build_a_snowman/pseuds/let_build_a_snowman
Summary: Well, I got inspired by the movie Ameican Gigolo generally, and it's short just because I'm not sure where this will lead to. Basically, it's a story about Carl, who is abused currently by his owner, ran into a gigolo named Pete. Anyway, hope you enjoy.
Relationships: Carl Barat/Pete Doherty
Kudos: 43





	Last of the English Roses

Sitting in the corner of the pub Peter himself always visits, all his attention is attracted by that gorgeous guy next to the second window, wearing a nice hat and holding a glass of iced gin. Peter can see easily the way-too-many bruises on his bared wrists and the suspicious hickey right there proudly showing itself off on his beautiful long neck.

Two shots later, Peter’s getting a little bit pissed, and the iced-gin guy, Mr. mystery, Peter decides to give him this name, is stilling focusing on nothing but his glass. Dressed formally in a suit, Mr. mystery seems to be extremely sad. There’s no doubt that he’s a man with countless heartbroken stories, which, coincidently, is one of the several things Peter’s obsessed with aside from having sex.

Better try the luck tonight, Peter decides without too many thoughts finally, so he stands up from his seat, grabs his bottle of whisky and staggers slowly to his mystery.

“Bonjour Monsieur,” says Peter when Mr. mystery finally looks up for the guy heading towards him.

“Bonjour,” nice shot, Peter thinks to himself, proudly for getting Mr. mystery into talk.

“Nice suit,” Peter reaches out his right hand. “Pete Doherty, how nice to know you.”

“Thanks. You, too.” Just by shaking hands, Peter can tell how broken he is for that hand is so beautiful but oh so cold at the same time. “Carl Barat by the way.”

“So why here?” Crooked an eyebrow, Peter asks. “A striking-looking guy like you dressed in a luxury suit, sitting here in a crowded pub downtown drinking straight gin? It’s so not reasonable for me.”

“Well, see, I’m not here to discuss logic with random handsome guys I bumped into in this pub, and so aren’t you, right? So I highly recommend you to dump all of your curiosity. That’s so gonna kill you.”

“Okay, fine, no asking anymore,” spreading his hands, Peter gives one of his best try of his entire life to put on an innocent face, just like he knows nothing about all the bruises and hickey stuff.

“What do you do for a living, boy?” Mr. mystery asks with a wicked smile.

“Well, just that random boring stuff, you know, being an interpreter for foreign travelers or doing all those accounting stuff for family shops, and right, I do write poems sometimes you know.”

“No truth telling, huh? Being an accountant for hell seems way more reasonable to me.”

“What do you mean by th-“

“Gigolo.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your job, isn’t it? A gigolo, or, a rent-boy? Or let’s put it straight, a male prostitute, am I guessing right?”

“Oh sir, I’m afraid you’ve got a mistake.”

“Hey, don’t be shy, young man,” it must be the gin, Peter can feel the man right in front of him is super intoxicated now. “Just tell me how much, and I’ll pay.”

“Sorry, I think you’ve misunderstood-“

“Call me Carl,” the beautiful man suddenly somehow makes a way near Peter’s right ear and whispers with a hoarse voice.

Carl now is getting far too close to Peter and Peter can definitely feel every breath Carl take and count his eyelashes clearly. It’s no good. Peter feels he himself incredibly turned on simply by listening to the other man whisper his way into his ear.

“Watch out!” Peter shouts out, pretending to be really mad, trying to take back his control to all this. He should be the one who’s gonna play the game, not the wrong way round. Carl is only allowed to toe the line and play along.

“Easy, boy!” It works, and clearly Carl’s getting a little nervous as well as sober now. “Look, you tell me how much it costs and I’ll buy you one night. Just fuck me as hard as you can and I’ll pay you. Win-win, right?”

“Sorry, beauty,” but then, Peter finds something, something’s clearly wrong, “think I’ve picked a wrong person today. That’s my fault.”

“Wha- What are you talking about? You’re confusing me.”

“You’ve got a nice collar,” considering for a while, Peter finally says. “Already been taken, huh? Nice to meet you, but I suggest you call it a night. Never want you to be   
beaten up by your owner ever again.”

“No, no, don’t worry,” Carl suddenly grabs Peter’s wrists as if seeing through his intention to leave. “He’s not around now. He’s in America. A business trip, you know, for two weeks. He’ll never find out. I promise. Come on, take me to your home or wherever you want, please.”

Silence for a while, Carl whispers, again, in a barely audible low voice, sadly, cheeks blushing, “please, I just want to know how it’ll feel.”

“How it will feel what?” Now Peter is staring at him, and he’s getting interested.

“How it will feel to fuck you.”


End file.
